Itch
by Squad2SoiFon
Summary: Sometimes, you send shivers down my spine. Aizen/Shinji drabbles.
1. Shiver

The moonlight illuminated the Captain as he trudged through the greenery of the forest, ever loyal Lieutenant tailing behind him. It was always like that, so it seemed to Shinji; Aizen chasing after his shadow, always a step or two behind him. It was quite the opposite, really. It was Aizen that was a step or two in front of his blond haired Captain.

The bespectacled man followed behind Shinji, his Captain's slim back before him. It was quite the opposite, really. His Captain would never bare his back to him, never in a million years.

The two walked in silence, uncomfortable but never unusual. If Aizen didn't know any better, he would think his Captain was a reserved man with the way he never spared any words for his Lieutenant. It was quite the opposite, really. Shinji Hirako was a talkative, wild man, always the center of conversation. He was never short of words, never afraid to speak his mind, unless it involved his Lieutenant. Shinji seemed to go against everything that made him him, if it meant keeping Aizen at arms length and in his sights at all times.

Sandal clad feet tread lightly on the autumn leaves before coming to a stop. When Shinji could no longer hear the rhythmic sound of Aizen's footsteps behind him, he paused in his steps, not bothering to face the man behind him. He braced himself for words he knew were coming.

'Captain?'

His voice was small, quiet, but not at all fragile or soft. He wanted to grit his teeth.

'Whadya' want?'

It wasn't _'what is it?'_ or _'what's the matter?'_. It was always _'what do you want'_ with them, because Aizen always seemed to want, to take, to _steal_ from him. He stole his piece of mind the second his spiritual pressure could be detected, stole the opportunity of trusting his subordinate like all the other Captains. He stole his rest; sleep exchanged for skeptically watching his Lieutenant wander and stalk under the shadows at night. He stole the air from his lungs when he spoke those innocent words, or smiled that faithful, _fake_ smile of his; leaving his lungs empty and crushed in a burning desire to_ just tear at him._

Shinji turned around then, dusky irises immediately locking with walnut brown. There was something different in Aizen's eyes, something resembling vulnerability, and though the Captain made a show of how unamused he was, he was actually interested in what the man had to say.

'Sometimes, you send shivers down my spine.'

The scent of plum and jasmine and just _Shinji_ lingered in the air in front of him, soon followed by the man himself staring down at his Lieutenant. Strands of golden hair lazily fell back to narrow shoulders, momentarily airborne from the sudden movement. He was so close, his skin tingling from the overwhelming scent of his Captain.

Shinji didn't know why he moved, his senses and emotions acting before his mind had time to process it. He was suddenly standing in front of his smaller Lieutenant, faintly detecting the crispy scent emanating from his body and staring into his large eyes. It was the first time he had ever heard such words from him, they seemed almost real. For a second, Shinji thought he had glimpsed through Aizen's innocent facade and he took his time to study him carefully. His next words were almost as true.

'You took the words right outta' my mouth.'

He watched as Aizen's eyes widened still before his face settled back into its composed, innocent mask. Shinji's eyes trailed further down his face and settled on his parted pink lips. He hadn't noticed the speck of blood on his bottom lip before, and the somewhat tentative moment between them shattered as Shinji raised a pale finger to the man's lips, the pad pressed lightly against the drop of blood. Shinji could feel Aizen's irregular breathing against his finger as he traced the feathery touch over the bottom lip, rubbing off the blood and pulling his finger away. His heated gaze lingered over his lips a while longer, before he swiftly turned around and walked into the darkness of the night sky.

Aizen couldn't stop the shiver if he tried.


	2. Cringe

_It doesn't hurt me,_

_You want to feel how it feels_

_You want to know,_

_Know that it doesn't hurt me_

_- Placebo, Running Up That Hill_

* * *

Aizen walked quietly through the main gates of the Fifth Division; the cheerful guard far too loyal to question his trip. He was Lieutenant Aizen, after all, the well-mannered, polite and oh-so-_faithful_ second in command. A refreshing break from their wild Captain. He wondered about the man then, Shinji Hirako, the untamed spirit of a panther. He wondered what he would be doing at the moment; listening to his favorite human music, running around chasing the short girl from the Twelfth or perhaps sleeping. For some reason, Aizen had the sudden urge to talk to his Captain. Not reports or receive instructions, but actually _talk_ with the man that intrigued him more than he would let on. He wanted the blond to tell him something he couldn't figure out by watching him behind the shadows at night, or listening in on his conversations. Something from his heart.

But then that would form a bond between the two men, and of course they couldn't have that. It would be too risky. So Aizen settled for a smile that wasn't as forced as it usually was, as he tapped lightly against the bamboo of his Captain's door. Faint chatter could be heard from the inside, and the unmistakable trill of Shinji's laughter. It wasn't particularly soft or high pitched, quite the opposite, but he found the sound...pleasant.

'C-Come in!~'

Shinji hadn't bothered to clear his throat before answering and the tinkle of his laughter melted in with his words like an improvised melody. Aizen's smile grew just that little bit wider before he tentatively opened the door, peeking large brown eyes through the space. He could see Shinji's head thrown back against the couch, the rest of his body lying on top of Captain Kyoraku's, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hakama. Shimmering bangs hung over his eyes, framing his face and bringing out the pure pink of his lips that were pulled back to reveal large teeth.

Laughter immediately died out as the Captain's poppy gold eyes snapped open to lock with Aizen's. In a matter of seconds, the laughing, carefree and almost _happy_ expression on his pale face shifted into a dark annoyance reserved especially for his Lieutenant. Aizen watched him sit up and sigh, fingers brushing through his hair before looking back up at him.

'Eh, Sosuke. Still got those papers fer' ya' ta' fill out.'

His tone was bored, exhausted and cold as he studied the younger man in front of him. If Aizen had been anyone else, he would have cringed.


	3. Grasp

_When we were in flames,_

_I needed, I needed you,_

_To run through my veins,_

_Like disease, disease,_

_And now we are strange,_

_Strangers._

_- Daughter, Winter_

* * *

_These nights were the worst._

The nights where Fifth Division would spend it's remaining monthly budget on a party, many thanks to Shunsui Kyoraku and Urahara Kisuke. And of course, with Shinji Hirako being the carefree, fan-fucking-tastic man he was, he'd make it the best party of the month, which it usually was. Who'd want to spend the night with a sobbing Hisagi, anyway? No, Shinji's party's were always the best.

And of course, these parties always had a more than sufficient supply of alcohol, much to Aizen's discontent. Not being very much of a drinker, he was left with the job of stopping various different Shinigami from wrecking down the place or trying to sleep through the noise. The latter was generally not the case. So there he was again, forcibly planted in front of the double doors of the Fifth Division's banquet hall with his Captain fumbling with a piece of fabric around his neck.

'Captain, if I may ask, what is that?'

'A tie, Sosuke,' came the bored reply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. The Captain continued to fuss over the thing, brows furrowed in a deep frown. Aizen took the time to glance over his Captain's choice of wardrobe for the evening; a slim fitting orchid colored dress shirt tucked into the waistband of equally as tight black slacks. This wasn't a surprise, he had gotten used to the strange clothing his Captain often brought from the world of the living. He couldn't help but notice how slim he looked in the clothes, the fabric shifting over his toned skin like it was made for him. The rich purple of his shirt brought out the honey color of his eyes, making them seem more sultry than they usually were. Those same eyes finally glanced up at him, frown still in place as he walked over to him.

'Kay, let anyone and everyone in. An' don't scare tha' ladies off with yer' looks, alright?'

'I will try my best not to, Captain.' Aizen smiled softly at his Captain, his mood almost classified as happy. Though the actual party was an annoyance to the reserved man, it was one of the rare moments his Captain would act normal around him. Or at least not as hostile as he usually was. He was probably too busy to bother with Aizen was the closest to the truth.

'Oh, and if Hiyori tries ta' come in, kick 'er out,' he muttered before placing numerous bottles of sake next to the fried fish, patting down the table cloth. The challenge of the evening, it seemed. The blonde seemed to sneak past him anyway, and Shinji didn't really seem to mind. He nodded, smoothing out his uniform as he saw Matsumoto approach with a bottle of sake already in her hand, closely followed by the rest of her drinking buddies. It would be a long night.

As the drinks on the table decreased, the limp bodies scattered around the room increased, the majority of the Shinigmi drifting into much needed sleep. Aizen nearly tripped over Kira's arm as he tried to clear up the spare bottles on the floor. He sighed, running his hand through his hair. His head was pounding from all the noise earlier that night, his nose still bruised from the brutal kick he had taken from Hiyori. Yes, Aizen was reminded once again why he hated these parties. Socked feet pounded lightly against the floor boards as he made his way to the main door, relieved he was able to finally leave, but he was stopped by a soft whimper.

_Yes, these nights were the worst._

He stepped into the room, holding his breath as he found his Captain curled into a ball in the wardrobe, rocking his body back and forth in the tiny space. This was definitely the worst part of the night. Deafening jazz music and violent chicks were nothing compared to this. Aizen stepped closer cautiously, frowning as another choked sob ripped from the Captain's chest, tears that weren't there muffling his senses. A pale hand rested on blonde hair before moving over the back of his head. Aizen bent down infront of him, watching the man rub at his eyes in agitation. It wasn't part of his job description to help calm his Captain out of his drunken stupor. He could have carried on walking and pretend it never happened. But something in the sight of the strong, lean frame he had come to respect curled against itself twisted his stomach tightly and the next thing he knew it, he was comforting his Captain.

Gentle hands wrapped around wet palms, tugging them away.

'It's alright, Captain. You're alright.'

Dark eye lashes fluttered open at the sound to reveal large, wheat colored irises. Golden bangs fell into his eyes, dry lips parted and cheeks tinted with the unmistakable pink of his drunken state. The light from the window fell on to his frame, his hair shimmering. There, bathed in the moonlight, Shinji almost looked beautiful.

'Let's stand up and take you back home, Captain,' he mumbled, standing up and gently tugging on his hands. The blond immediately shook his head, face crumpling and Aizen promptly sat down next to him. He reached out to brush a tear away from his cheek with the pad of his thumb. He had never touched his Captain's face before, had never been so close to him. Despite the reek of alcohol, the raw scent of plums and musk wafted in the air between them. His fingers brushed against a strand of light hair. Shinji never let Aizen anywhere near him. The first time he was able to feel the silk of his Captain's hair against his own skin was when he was drunk. He didn't want to know how he felt about that.

'No...Nonononono...'

His voice was soft and high pitched as hiccups took over his words and Aizen found himself shifting closer to the broken man, defensiveness kicking in. Before he had a chance to speak, thin but strong arms were wrapped around his neck, the blond's frail body pressed tightly against his. Aizen's head was swimming, the proximity too much for him to handle as Shinji buried his face into his chest, muffling his cries.

'Don't leave me, Aizen...'

He stiffened. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he always thought Shinji assumed him to be a different Shinigami, maybe Urahara or Love. But his Captain knew who he was, just _who_ exactly he was clinging so desperately on to. He had never uttered his name during one of his drunken fits before, or ever embraced him, and the sudden realization that his Captain, the one who hated his guts and wanted to rip his eyes out, grasped for _his_ comfort; not any of the girls he always seemed to chase after, nor any of his many Shinigami friends- it was only Sosuke Aizen.

The night passed by as Shinji's muffles droned out into a light snore, knuckles white from clutching onto his Lieutenant's uniform so tightly. Shinji fell asleep in his arms, head cradled in the crook of Aizen's neck, and he realized how perfectly the Captain fit into his embrace.

But morning dawned too soon and Aizen untangled himself from his Captain's grasp, laying him down on his side and standing up to exit the room. A sigh escaped his lips as the realization finally dawned on him; the night would be nothing but a hazy hang over for Shinji and he would return to his coldness. He didn't know which was worse; receiving his Captain's hostility the following day or not being able to forget what it felt like to have him in his arms. He didn't want to know why but it left an unfulfilled ache in his chest.

_These nights were the worst._


	4. Falter

_And I can think of a thousand reasons why,_

_I don't believe in you,_

_I don't believe in you and I_

_- Zeds Dead/Omar LinX, You and I_

* * *

Running slim yet calloused fingers over the cotton of the sheets, Shinji waits.

The uncomfortably familiar spiritual pressure rings in his ears like warning bells. He waits.

He watches, darkness of the night concealing his shadowed form as his Lieutenant steps into the room, burnt amber eyes cold.

He doesn't see him.

'Where were you?'

He falters then, immaculately perfect composition shuffling, revealing.

'Training.'

He scoffs.


	5. Abide

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All rights to Tite Kubo.

* * *

_We're too similar,_

_Loosing our minds,_

_With cabin fever,_

_Shut in confined spaces,_

_Lost in the dark,_

_My heart taken and resting on your heart_

_- Daughter, Winter_

Aizen held his breath as the distinct silhouette of his Captain strolled past.

Shinji held his breath as he walked past the unmistakable spiritual pressure of his Lieutenant, figure concealed by the power of his zanpacuto.

They warily held their ground, wondering how long it would take for one of the two to shatter the tension building in the air around them.

No matter how hard they denied it, they were far too similar; vigilant of each others presence, anticipating their next move, watching, _always watching._ Playing a guarded game of cat and mouse they no longer followed the rules to, uncertain which man played the part of the predator. Shinji liked to think it was him but even he couldn't deny how easily Sosuke slipped through the grasp of his fingers like his endless strands of golden hair.

'How long are ya' gonna' stand there watchin' me, Sosuke?'

Aizen thought he was the predator, and it was true most of the time, but then his Captain would sharpen his claws and cage him in, turning their game around. Long nails scratched through the barrier, revealing the form of his Lieutenant.

On they played.


End file.
